Exclusive: A Page from Barack Obama’s Diary – All I Wanted for my Birthday Was Total Submission – Was That Too Much to Ask?

Yesterday was my birthday. Forty-eight years old and I don’t look a day over 47. Heh. Just one of my little jokes. Thankfully, I’ve got nearly 20 years before the crystal in my hand turns black and I have to go to Carousel like everyone else if my healthcare plan gets rammed through – but that’s the best part, because you see Diary, people like me won’t have to sign on to the nanny state version of healthcare. It’s good to be the President.

I’ve always been told it’s better to give than to receive, and so my gift yesterday was to Helen Thomas, the old bag who scares the crap out of me distinguished elderly reporter who is a Press Room institution. Believe it or not, Helen and I share the same birthday, although she’s 89 and well past her ObamaCare sell-by date. I made a surprise visit to the Press Room with a plate of cupcakes, made a few of my trademark hilarious jokes, had her blow out a candle, posed for a photo, and was out of there before anyone could ask me what Michelle and the girls had given me. See, the girls gave me a toy model of Airforce One that I’m pretty sure was purchased in the White House gift shop, and Michelle’s gift to me was a chance to wear the pants in the family for a little while. Not exactly the stuff dreams are made of, but it’s better than the membership to Weight Watchers that Robert Gibbs’ wife gave to him on his birthday!

To be honest, Diary, I’ve never much liked birthdays. First there’s the fact that my dad was never there to spend it with me, and my mom wasn’t around much either before she died. Living with my grandparents, I had to endure years of gifts like homemade knitted sweaters that smelled like mothballs and those gross cakes that old people like – you know, the kind with the coconut frosting. You might not believe it, but it’s those memories that helped me to shape ObamaCare’s provisions for old people.

So you can imagine the excitement of celebrating my first birthday as Supreme Commander President of the United States. What would my adoring public have in store for me? Parades? Fireworks? A giant card signed by thousands? A 21-gun salute?

The answer, of course, is nothing. My media flunkies made mention of my birthday, of course (they know what would have happened if they didn’t!), but other than Domino’s Pizza in D.C. offering a free chocolate lava crunch cake to anyone who said “Happy Birthday” to me, there really wasn’t much to celebrate. Bitter clingers were too busy exercising their First Amendment rights by complaining about ObamaCare. I just can’t catch a break.

You know what country really knows how to honor their leader’s birthday? North Korea. For Kim Jong-il's birthday back in February, the government distributed food and alcoholic beverages, the streets were decorated with flowers and electric lamps, and they got the synchronized swim team to do a special routine. Heck, it’s their biggest national holiday! What do I get? A luncheon with the Senate Democrats, including that Friday faced, reedy voiced Harry Reid. Cripes, no wonder we can’t get Americans behind ObamaCare! He’s enough to put me off of my lunch – not exactly who we need to inspire confidence in the people that we the government have their best interests at heart. We don’t, of course, but we have to convince them that we do. Considering the mess they’ve made of things, it’s too bad I can’t charge them back for their lunches too.

And I can’t believe he said afterward that “we’re ready to take on the world.” Harry, Harry, haven’t I taught you anything? Don’t state your true intentions up front. Playing the centrist on TV while working on your true agenda behind closed doors is the Chicago way. But Harry’s from Nevada, so I expect he doesn’t understand.

Another thing that ticked me off is that someone dared to distribute posters of me in the Heath Ledger’s Joker makeup with the word “socialism” underneath. He who mocks me does so at his own peril. Bush may have ignored that crap, but I sure won’t, and I trust ACORN will not fail me in this matter.

You know what I need? I need a Birthday Czar. I have so many czars accountable only to me already that surely no one will notice another one. Yep; a Birthday Czar could make sure that the people don’t forget my big day next year. I’ll send him to North Korea to get a few tips. And perhaps it’s time we got rid of President’s Day and celebrate my birthday instead. Who cares about a couple of old dead white guys anyway?

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